


collector's item

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Don't Touch Lola, F/M, Future Fic, Grant Ward is a Nazi, Hurt/Comfort, POV Inanimate Object, Romance, Skoulson RomFest 2k14, Unresolved Sexual Tension, skoulsonfest2k14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson, and Skye <i>and</i> Coulson, through Lola's eyes.</p><p>(Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k14 - Prompt: Lola)</p>
            </blockquote>





	collector's item

Finally you take me somewhere, boy.

Though travelling inside a plane is not my ideal (I can fly myself, thank you very much); but I'm glad to be on the mission.

He's kept me too many years in the garage, taking care of me, yes, I'm in mint condition, but he only ever gave me a ride very occasionally, and it was always too short and too safe.

Come on, Phil, let me live a little.

 

+

 

"Lola can keep up."

Well, yes, I can, but we're not talking about me here, are we, and I didn't sign up to help you impress a young woman with your amazing red flying car.

Though I am, amazing, and she looks pretty delighted (more than impressed) when I start hovering in the air. It's a good feeling. You've seen nothing yet, girl.

 

+

 

Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful to be out of the garage, as I said, but – getting shot at by Peruvian rebels and then awaiting death inside a falling plane because a group of freaking genuises blows a hole in it on their first day on the job is not my idea of contributing to the cause.

I don't know about you, Phil, but I'm getting quite skeptical. This doesn't look like a _team_.

You're lucky it's all over and I don't have a dent on me.

But now the girl is putting her hands on me. Are you not going to chastise her, Phil? No? What happened to the "Don't touch Lola"? Which, by the way, what the hell do you know? I might like to be touched by random people (no, I _don't_ ).

Okay, it's the girl's first day on the job as well, and I saw her down here, she was pretty spooked. I guess she is allowed to touch me. A bit. It's not awful – she runs her fingers along the driver's door, and she leans against me while she checks stuff on her phone, but she seems pretty reverential otherwise. I think she likes me.

"You guys totally did it back in the day, right?"

"That's classified."

That's how it's going to be from now on? This type of... scene? I realize I am a red Corvette but that doesn't mean I'm okay with stroking the ego of middle aged men in crisis who insist on flirting with young women in front of me.

I thought you were better than this, Phil.

It's quite entertaining, though. And she is obviously amused by it. 

I think she likes him.

 

+

 

She's been at it for hours. I'm tired just looking at her.

Something has changed. I saw her work routine the last couple of days, with the specialist. She was unruly, unmotivated, made a lot of jokes, flirted.

Then something changed. She even spoke about her childhood, which... I was not expecting that. I thought she was just a normal girl. I don't know much about her. Does Phil? She doesn't seem safe, somehow.

And now she's changed her strategy and she's overdoing it like a new recruit. She's going to hurt tomorrow if she keeps working the punching bag for much longer. Fortunately Phil comes down to tell her to cut it out.

"Okay, you've been at it for hours, you can stop now."

"But –"

He puts his hand on the bag, cutting her protests.

"You'll overexert yourself." She looks disappointed. "I appreciate your commitment but you don't have to try so hard. I know you're committed. So maybe rest a bit?"

She looks at him, like she's seizing him up. She still doesn't look safe.

"I guess this means Agent Ward got throught to you," Phil comments.

"Yes. Eventually." He gives her a smug smile. "Why do I have the feeling you had something to do with that?"

"He would have gotten there himself. I just gave him a little push."

"Well, in any case, thank you."

The girl keeps on punching the bag, even though he told her to stop.

He just watches her for a bit.

"Why do you want to be a field agent, Skye?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're already here and you could just run comms. What you did in Malta was very brave but that doesn't need to be your job."

"I guess..." she gives the bag another left hook. "I guess I want to work with people. Protect people, I mean. Be a line of defense, not someone typing at her computer, alone in a van."

 

+

 

The girl is crying.

I've kind of figured out what's going on.

Phil is not around, he's been taken. 

At some point the girl just opened my passenger door and climbed in. She hasn't stopped typing at her laptop and I would be ticked off that she's sitting cross-legged, putting her feet up my beautiful leather seats, but she looks like she needs a break so I'll let it pass just for once. 

No one is sleeping and no one has stopped working since Phil was taken. Phone calls and new reinforcements and a sense of urgency. I wonder. He never struck me as a person who'd inspire this much loyalty in so many people. Maybe I misjudged him. This girl seems to think he's worth it, all the work she's doing, all her desperation.

She seems to think Phil is worth the tears that are starting to roll down her cheeks. 

She doesn't make a noise. I can only tell she's sobbing by the way she is shivering against the back of the seat.

She brushes her fingers along the steering wheel, comfortingly (for her? for me?).

"I'll find him," she promises.

 

+

 

"Don't touch Lola," she warns the agent as she walks away.

Where the hell did she pick that up? She wasn't here when Phil said it that time. It's a bit creepy. The girl is a bit creepy.

 

+

 

Skye kept her promise.

He's bruised and battered and there's something troubling in his eyes which wasn't there before. But she found him and he's alive.

 

+

 

I like Mexico.

I don't like how little Phil is talking or the tone he uses when he does.

Will he leave SHIELD like his friend suggested? I am still, technically, SHIELD property. I don't want another owner.

In the end we are here for Skye. Yeah, I can help with that. I mean, I don't like flying willy-nilly, specially in the middle of a crowded town, but I can help with that. I owe the girl. I know what she did for Phil. I don't have to guess why he is so set on doing something for her.

 

+

 

The storm outside is defeaning. The wind blows a spray of cold raindrops over me. After Mexico it's confusing, like we came back to a different world.

The storm outside shakes us violently.

Skye looks sad. 

Phil looks at her.

 

+

 

He doesn't like leaving her behind.

He doesn't hesitate (he's said something about saving her, this is why we are here) but he doesn't like stepping out of the plane, leaving her behind.

It's been more than a day.

I watched when they brought her over, bleeding and dying and inside that creepy chamber. I saw Phil's face, the vacant expression like someone had emptied him of everything he had inside. Blood on his clothes. The specialist punched the SUV. Blood on everybody's hands. 

They're going somewhere called the Guest House now. Bulletproof vests, rifles, desperation. Plans, preparations, desperation.

She saved you, Phil.

You need to return the favor.

 

+

 

They are shooting at me again.

This time, when it ends, Phil doesn't worry about checking if any bullet has grazed me.

Can't exactly blame him but everyone has lost something here. Phil is not the only one walking on glass shards. Everybody looks like they have been punched in the soul. I don't have a soul, I don't think so, but SHIELD was all I had, too. That was the deal. A collector's item but I belonged here.

We're going somewhere cold.

 

+

 

For a moment I was worried this asshole was going to spray black paint all over me, like he did with that poor SUV. Erasing the SHIELD logo, how dare he. (How dare he many things really, how dare they)

I was designed by Howard Stark, I don't take well to being kidnapped by HYDRA agents, the guy should know that about me. 

At least Skye knows what's going on – I've seen her look at Agent Ward when he wasn't looking, I've seen her look for a phone or anything to defend herself with while he isn't paying attention. Personally I'm hoping she finds a handgun and puts one bullet in each kneecap, I'm old fashioned like that.

Hours later the game is up.

"You can't win," he tells her."

She's been made.

He has her handcuffed to the stairs.

Hey, asshole I _let you_ drive in the passenger's seat. Phil took you places. Phil talked to you about personal stuff while driving, he told you about his ex. Get your HYDRA hands off the girl.

Eventually she gets tired of arguing the finer points of NeoNazism with him and sits on the stairs, her back turned to the traitor. She waits, very aware and very carefully, until he's walked away and gone and she lets out a couple of deep, noiseless sobs. I recognize the gesture, the slight trembling of the shoulders. Is she going to have to do this alone, too?

 

+

 

She's much braver than I would have been.

I would have let him die.

 

+

 

Great, now they are shooting at me again. Is this going to be a recurrence? I'm starting to regret Phil ever took me out of that garage.

Deathlok has me targeted.

Great.

The HYDRA asshole is aiming at Phil's head, my windshield eating bullet after bullet.

Awesome.

I know I'm a combat unit, Phil, but you can't even stand a tiny scratch, bullet holes are going to drive you insane.

At least he got to Skye. At least she's not alone.

This is better now he's here, we're all together, even though we're falling through the air and Skye should have listened when told to put on the seatbelt and – 

And something is wrong.

Something is _wrong_.

The bullets must have hit deeper than I originally thought.

I can't fly.

I can't fly.

I'm going to get them killed.

No.

I'm not done yet.

I might not be an agent but I'm still SHIELD. This is my war. 

Okay, so this hurts, this hurts like hell.

But as long as I can get them home safe, it'll be okay.

I've never been scared of death.

I just never thought there was something out there worth dying for.

One last flight.

One last effort.

It's going to be all right.

We're flying. (sort of – enough)

I've got you. _I've got you_.

 

+

 

Phil wants to take the girl out of here immediately. I can't blame him. She can't stand to hear about leaving me here.

"We have to get her towed to a safe place," Skye says.

"I know some people in town."

"SHIELD people? Because right now..."

"Loyal people."

"Okay."

They wait with me on the street until the tow truck comes.

"We should find somewhere to rest," Phil is saying, trying again. "You should rest."

And he doesn't know half of it. He wasn't there. I was there. I watched on as that monster grabbed her and handcuffed and started shouting nonsense in her face when things didn't go his way. Cringe-worthy, if I could cringe. The girl withstood it all but she was shaken. She was scared. Phil only got to catch the last reel of the film. I was there for the whole show. Maybe it's a good thing Phil wasn't there.

"I don't want to leave her alone," Skye says, trembling on the sidewalk. "If it weren't for this car we'd be..."

Phil puts his arm around her shoulder, letting her bury her face in his shoulder. She's not crying or anything, which is worse.

"Fine," he says, "we'll wait here. And then we'll find somewhere safe to talk, okay?"

She nods.

When the truck finally comes for me she looks sad to see it arrive.

"Thank you for saving our lives," Skye says, brushing her fingers across one of the bullet holes. 

She walks away and Phil looks at her, after her, with a expression on his face – he looks at her like the girl is made of Christmas and your best birthday and like she is everything. Like he always does when she's not looking.

 

+

 

Someone is here with me.

 _Phil_.

No, not Phil.

The girl. _Skye_.

She must look at me and think how done I am. How pathetic I look. Crippled, maimed. I am done. The bullet holes. Scars. The thrusters. I can't fly. Done. I'm done.

She runs her fingers along the driver's door, gently, sweetly. It reminds me of the first time she did that. How I didn't want anyone but Phil to touch me. What was I thinking. If I could tell her anything I'd tell her that, that it's okay. That she can do this.

"We'll get you fixed, don't worry," she tells me and who wouldn't believe that tone. "We're not giving up on you."

 

+

 

New SHIELD, new Lola.

I could be okay with that.

I'm still trapped inside the plane, for the most part.

Better than the base's garage, though, so cold and impersonal. I don't like the base that much.

"Come on, get in," Skye tells him.

Phil hesitates. Okay, I look a bit different now. We all change. Don't be afraid.

"I'm not sure."

"It's okay, state of the art. Spared no expenses. Well, spared a bit of expense. We're not loaded, precisely."

"It doesn't look like her," he says. It stings a bit. "I don't know if –"

"Nothing will happen. You're not going to crash it on her first day back, I promise."

"Well, she's still a collector's item, you know."

I just want to go out for a bit. Let me. I'm ready, it's time. Skye seems to be on my side because she touches Phil's arm for a moment, gesturing for him to climb in.

"Come on, take her out for a ride," she tells him.

Phil looks at me for a long time. He sighs in a way that tells me he will give in.

"Okay, a ride. A short one. And only if you come with me."

Skye runs her fingers across the hood playfully. "Thought you'd never ask."

 

+

 

"Please, get out of there and come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you are awake right now."

I don't think so, either. I knew something was wrong with Phil the moment he got inside. Something heavy was pushing him down. His eyes had gone hollow and cold. It didn't feel like Phil at any moment. Yes, the weight was there and the shape of his back against the seat was the same. But this wasn't Phil. I got scared when he turned out the ignition but minutes passed and he didn't seem to be considering driving me anywhere.

Skye grabs his arm. "We have to get you in bed, and we have to get Simmons to check everything. You've been doing stuff in your sleep and we need – we have to help you."

"You look scared," he says, his voice very far away.

" _I am_ scared," she says, eyes big with tears and concern and well, yes, love. "Please, let me get you upstairs."

He looks away, the hands still on the wheel.

Skye opens the door slowly, never letting go of his t-shirt, her knuckles white. She leans over, pressing her face against his arm, the arm she's tightly holding on to. Hot tears drop onto my leather seat but for once I'm not thinking about that. I'm scared. As scared as Skye looks.

"Please, please, please, _A.C._ " she keeps repeating.

That seems to work.

He looks at her, drawing a long breath that finally, _finally_ , sounds like Phil.

She broke some kind of spell. I don't believe in that sort of stuff but that's what she's just done.

He lets her guide him out but when he is about to set foot on the floor he discovers how little strength he has to do so. He stumbles and falls into her hands, his palm on my hood desperatedly scrambling for some balance.

"There's something wrong with me," he says, the voice completely Phil's this time.

The girl nods, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"We'll figure it out," she tells him as he slips his arm around her shoulders. He can't walk without her right now.

"How do you know that?"

She keeps walking, dragging him along, making him hold on to her and never letting him let go.

"Because I refuse to consider the alternative," she says.

I hear that too, and I'm a little less scared now.

 

+

 

When they open the cargo door all I can see it's a beautiful day somewhere in the European countryside. Funny, I hadn't heard anything about a mission in such an idyllic setting.

When he offers her the keys I understand what this is all about.

"Are you sure?"

Skye should be asking _me_ , not him.

Phil nods and she takes the keys from his hand, starting the engine.

I do not like changes. Phil is the only one who has driven me in a long, long time. It doesn't matter that it's just a nice and safe scenic route in the countryside or how much I trust Skye, or how much she deserves it.

"Don't step on it," he warns her. Well, at least there's that.

"Hey, I've seen _you_ drive. You have no right to judge whatsoever."

She's right, Phil, she's right.

"Okay, but what is this all about?" she asks when they park on a nice patch of green. I'm not much for the country, usually, preferring city circuits, but this is nice, a nice cold breeze and all and Phil seems more relaxed than lately – even though it's weird to have him in the passenger's seat. Well, he deserves this, too.

"Didn't you want to drive Lola?"

"I've been wanting to drive Lola only like from day one." Ah, don't make me blush. Though it's true. The girl has had designs on me since Phil first took her on a flying ride, don't think I didn't notice. Funny, that feels like ages ago, and it's only been a little over a year. "But why now?"

"You've been helping me out a lot lately."

She keeps quiet for a while.

"You've already given me a badge, and put me in charge of the Welcome Wagon. You've given me an office. A really nice one."

"Those are things you deserved as a SHIELD agent," Phil tells her. "This is for all you've done for me, personally."

She pauses again.

"You're going to be okay, you know that," she says.

"I know that _now_."

The girl closes her hands over Phil's.

She drives quite well, I don't mind her being at the wheel that much.

I think I like her.

 

+

 

So Phil and I are a bit alike, I realize.

My thing wasn't by choice but I spent years locked in a garage, a collector's item. He has also spent years locked, treating himself like he was a collector's item.

I just wish he was better with metaphors.

 

+

 

I would be worried about the stains the blood might leave on the driver's door, my beautiful coat of paint, if I wasn't worried that the blood is Phil's and it's coming out of his weak human body quite fast. He leans into me, resting his wounded shoulder carefully.

Skye is with him, her hands twisted into his clothes.

"You have to get to the cockpit," Phil is saying. "Activate the auto-pilot. We need to get out of here right now."

He's right. I can hear the gunshots against the outside of the Bus. This plane might not be my favourite machine in the world but it's always not-good whenever people start to shoot at it. I remember our last stint at the Hub.

"I can't just leave you here," she replies.

His breathing is labored and I can feel the light trembling as his back pushes against the door, trying to keep upright. I wouldn't leave him here alone, either.

"You have to," he tells her, grabbing her wrist with red-stained fingers. "Find the sat phone, call May, she'll tell you what to do. We have to get out of here before they find a way to break in."

"Okay, I understand that, but –"

" _Now_. As soon as you start the engines you can come throw a first aid kit at me."

She has both hands on his chest.

"Coulson, don't die. That's an order."

"I'm the Director, you don't get to give me orders."

"This one I do get to give."

She leans into him and kisses him. I don't know if this has happened before (might explain how weird these two have been acting lately) but something about the way the girl grabs the collar of Phil's blood-stained shirt, feels like she might be thinking it won't happen again.

Phil freezes, he doesn't seem very happy about it.

"Skye..."

"You already said _No_ , I know, you've already rejected me," she says. "That's why I did it. So you can yell at me later and tell me again how it can't be and it's against protocol and explain how you are bad for me. But to do that you have to be alive. And well, I have other reasons."

She kisses him again.

"We'll talk," Phil says, sternly, like he has forgotten for a moment he's bleeding to death out here.

" _Exactly_ ," Skye says.

I no longer worry Phil is going to literally die on me. She would never let that happen.

 

+

 

Phil should stop thinking so much.

The drive back from Portland he passes in absolute silence, which is both unnerving and unusual. No radio, no stupid 30s big band tunes, no stopping in a service station to chat up the waitress, no phoning the team to control-freak their every move. The last part is alarming, and so it's the route he takes, driving through the country as if he never wanted to reach his destination. He did that with the journey out, but he was limited by the fact that he had set a date and a place for the meeting.

I don't know how it went.

I can't tell by the way he's behaving how it went. I could make a guess because me and Phil we've known each other a long time and that's not a face I've seen him make often. He's keeping this one very close to his chest.

He's been thinking about this too much, too hard.

It's times like this when it stings being an inanimate object. I'd like to grab Phil by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. He knows what to do – he's just completely terrified.

Then it starts raining.

Pouring.

I don't like driving in the rain. 

I don't like Phil driving in the rain.

I hate rain.

It rains for a long time and Phil drives for a long time, trying to postpone the inevitable. As if that were possible.

When we finally come home it's the middle of the night, but as soon as I heard him radio in I knew who would be waiting for us when the door of the hold opened.

"Hi," Skye says, in her workout clothes and with a face more serious and frightened that I've ever seen her.

Phil waits a moment, looking down at the steering wheel. Come on, pal, face the music. Eventually he climbs out and gets around the hood to stand right before the girl.

"Hi," he replies.

"You're wet," she points out.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "Didn't raise the roof in time."

She shoves her hands inside the pockets of her shorts. Humans have strange body language but you don't have to be a genius (or know the girl as well as I do) to figure this one out.

"You were gone a long time," she says.

"I took the long way back."

"And?"

"I'm sorry, Skye." She drops her glance, but Phil is not done. "I took the long way back but now _I'm here_."

She looks up at him.

She smiles.

That smile is worth driving through the rain for.

 

+

 

I'm really glad for you guys but we've talked about this.

You just can't do this to me.

I'm okay with all the handholding and the occasional, unavoidable spur-of-the-moment kiss. That I can understand. I can even understand the annoying dates in the city where you end up eating food from a truck here, at the risk of making a mess. I am willing to waiver my "no food, no drinks" rule because you look so happy but the _other rule_? Not a chance.

What you are doing today is crossing a line.

It started with some simple making out, which would be fine, specially because they haven't seen each other in a couple of days, what with Skye on recruitment duty (yes, Phil, _I_ pay attention to your stuff) but something got hold of Phil and now he's practically dry humping the girl. On. My. Seats.

He slips his hand under her leather jacket, reaching for the small of her back. Skye shifts on the passenger seat, draping one leg over Phil's lap, trapping him between her kisses and the way she wraps her fingers around his tie.

Then – no shame whatsoever, I'm a legend – he splays his hand across her inner thigh, the message very hard to miss. She chuckles while she is still kissing him, surprised and delighted.

"I thought Lola was off limits," Skye mutters against his mouth.

Yeah, _exactly_ , you tell him; he's being a complete oversexed kid and a boor.

Phil grabs at her belt and pulls Skye closer, kissing her neck, pushing her blouse away so he can kiss her collarbone.

"I need..." he pants.

He's done it, that's the magic word. I've seen Skye's reaction to him saying that word enough times to know there's nothing I can do to stop these two tonight. Great. Someone is going to owe me a visit to the car wash. The expensive one.

"What?" she asks him, drawing a pathetic sound from the back of his throat.

"I need... you."

She lifts her hands from his chest to his face, pressing one palm to his cheek. She looks into his eyes for a moment. A too-long moment. Phil closes his eyes as he presses himself against her touch, making little, desperate moaning noises at the wait.

Finally Skye nods and starts kissing his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

I had some hope that they would go back to the making out phase. But no. He groans when she breaks the kiss but soon her hands find him again, slipping under his shirt.

"I'm sure Lola would understand," Phil says.

Don't make me feel guilty about this.

"We can only hope," Skye replies, giving Phil exactly what he needs, not for the first time.

Oh, well, I get I'm no longer a collector's item and neither I nor Phil can claim much of a mint condition.

Maybe that's not such a bad thing, after all.


End file.
